


Fading

by trenchcoatonatardis



Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Angst, Drinking, Drug use mention, Homophobic Slurs, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Mild Sexual Content, Stanchez Micro-Bang 2016, Swearing, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-23 00:44:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8307265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trenchcoatonatardis/pseuds/trenchcoatonatardis
Summary: There are moments when you choose between what you want, and what you need. When Rick comes home late, again, Stan finally hits his moment head-on.





	

_Love's an excuse to get hurt_  
_And to hurt_  
\- “Lover I Don’t Have to Love” - Bright Eyes

* * *

Bare feet kicked impatiently at the threadbare rug on the floor, disturbing dust motes which danced in the light from the single lamp in the filthy one room apartment. Strewn across every surface in the room were empties and half-full liquor bottles, cigarette butts, the remains of various joints, and other substances. Ash fell to the floor as Stan flicked the cigarette between his fingers before taking another long drag.

* * *

  _Ash fell from Stan's cigarette to the floor of the dive he was killing time in that night, trying to scam and hustle enough cash to buy tomorrow's meal. He took a swig from his cheap beer, and placed it back on the bar._

_“H-h *urp* hey good lookin’. What brings a-a guy like you to a place like this?”_

_The bass player from the punk band that had been playing earlier sidled up to Stan with a wink and a lop-sided grin. Stan didn't know what it was about this guy that made him feel so…nervous?_

_When he paused too long, trying to think of a reply, the other man, skinny as a drum stick, interrupted the awkward silence._

_“S-saw you checking me out on stage, thought I’d give you a c-closer look.” He inched closer to Stan, who had to admit that he didn’t mind the attention._

_“I...uh...I’m Stan. Stanley.” He extended a hand to shake, which the bass player ignored, choosing to throw his long arm around Stan’s broad shoulders instead._

_“Hey Lee, I’m Rick. W-wanna get out of here?”_

* * *

Stan was waiting. Like so many nights before, he was waiting for Rick to come home. He groaned and ran a hand through his hair before lying back on the thin mattress and staring at the ceiling. A heavy weight settled on his chest like an anvil as he counted the ticks of the clock on the wall. He wondered why he even bothered coming home anymore, if Rick didn’t.

* * *

  _Rick opened the door with a flourish. “M’lord, your master suite!”_

_Stan laughed, stepping into the apartment, before his grin faltered. “Jeez, Rick, where'd you find this shit hole?”_

_“I kn-know a guy who knows a guy who…used to own the place. D-don’t worry about it, Lee, it's_ **_ours_ ** _now!”_

_Stan kicked at the old bed, releasing dust into the air. He coughed. “What was wrong with staying in my car? I thought you liked not being tied down to one place?”_

_“The c-car is_ **_yours_ ** _Stan, this place is-is_ **_our_ ** _shit hole. And you know, I-I don't mind being tied down so much, i-i-if you're the one doing the tying.”_

_Stan chuckled and threw an arm around Rick's thin frame, pulling him to his chest. Rick buried his face in Stan's neck as Stan looked around the room._

_“Yeah,” he whispered, “ **our** shit hole.”_

* * *

The door slammed open, startling Stan, and Rick all but fell into the room. His hair was even more wild than usual, dark bags under his eyes matching the stains on his shirt.

“H- *urp* heeeey Lee, let’s go daaancing.” Rick’s words slurred together as he stumbled over to Stan and plopped himself in his lap with too much force.

Stan recoiled. _He smells like booze, cigarettes, vomit, and who knows what...or who else._ He pushed Rick off of him. “Rick, you stink. Where the hell have you been all day?”

Rick scoffed, “E-ended up at Blips and Chitz with these, these really *urp* really c-cool guys!”

“Well I’m glad you had such a swell day wasting what little money we have, while I was stuck on Earth hustling for chump change. I’m sure it was a real _adventure_.”

Rick rolled his eyes, “Oh c-come on, Lee, I-I-I came back for _you_ ! Let’s go have some _fun_ . I’ll m-make it worth your while…” He slid back over to Stan, his body lithe and predatory, like a cat, his eyes half closed as they dragged up and down Stan’s body.

* * *

_They moved together, again and again. Stan felt Rick’s hot breath in his ear, his body over, on, and all around his. Their chests pressed against each other as they moved, slick with sweat. Rick groaned and raised his head, looking into Stan’s eyes. Stan’s hands gripped Rick’s hips hard enough to bruise._

_“Nngh...Rick…” he whimpered._

* * *

“Rick.” Skinny arms wrapped around his waist as Rick’s mouth found Stan’s neck. “We need to talk.” Stan fought the heat rising in the pit of his stomach.

“I don’t want to t-talk,” Rick whispered into Stan’s ear before taking the lobe into his mouth and _sucking_. “C’mon, I know you wanna...” His hand traveled slowly across Stan’s chest and down, before stopping to slowly palm at the erection Stan could feel growing in his jeans, despite his efforts.

 _It's true. I do want Rick. I've always wanted him, since the first time I saw him on stage. I just don't want..._ **_this_ ** _._  
  
With a growl, he pushed Rick away. "Rick, I'm trying to have a real conversation with you here."

Rick threw his hands up into the air with an exasperated sound. Rolling his eyes, he turned away to look for something. Spotting a bottle that didn't look completely empty, he lurched over and swiped it off the TV set and took a deep swig, wiping at his mouth after. His dark eyes stared deep into the wall in front of him, willing it to become a portal that he could jump through and be anywhere else. He could feel Stan pacing behind him.

"Rick…” Stan sighed, “You can't keep drinking to avoid me."  
  
Rick felt his breath catch in his chest as heat rose to his cheeks. He turned around quickly, almost stumbling before catching himself. "F-f-fuck you Lee! You...you don't know _shit_ about me!"

Before he knew what he was doing, Rick threw the bottle at Stan. It shattered against the wall, just inches to Stan’s side. Stan flinched slightly and clenched his fists at his sides.

"Oh-Oh shit Lee, I didn't mean, I'm-I uh--" Rick ran to Stan’s side and grabbed his arm. Stan was pulled from his surprise at Rick’s reaction as he suddenly noticed there was a piece of glass lodged in his upper arm, the wound just beginning to spill over with blood. Stan felt his anger slip at the look of genuine concern on Rick’s face as his brow furrowed and he chewed at his chapped lips.

* * *

_The man’s fist collided with Stan’s jaw, and he stumbled backwards._

_“I know you hustled me, you piece of shit! Give me back my money!”_

_“I didn’t hustle SHIT, I won that money fair and square!” Stan spat out the blood in his mouth._

_“Like hell you did, you fucking queer!”_

_Stan clenched his jaw so hard it hurt, raising his fists._

_“I’ll show you who’s queer, you fucking shit stain!” Before Stan could react, Rick had jumped out of the corner of his vision and tackled the other bar patron, landing a punch before he was thrown off. The bigger man grabbed Rick’s arm and twisted it behind his back._

_“I want my fucking money, faggots!”_

_Rick howled as Stan heard the unmistakable sound of his wrist breaking._

_“Okay! Okay!” Stan raised his hands in surrender before reaching into his pocket and throwing the money on the floor. “Fucking take it! Let go of him!”_

_The other man released Rick and grabbed his cash, muttering as he walked away, “You losers deserve each other,” chuckling to himself._

_Stan gingerly picked Rick off the floor, taking special care to avoid his wrist. Rick pushed off of Stan. “D-dammit Lee, I-I coulda--"_

_“You couldn’t have done shit, you idiot. Come on, let’s go home and take care of that wrist.”_

* * *

Rick’s hands shook. “I-I-I-I’m gonna… I’m so… didn’t mean.” He pulled the shard out quickly, cutting a long red line across the base of his thumb in the process, before dropping it on the floor.

Stan grabbed Rick’s hand. “Shit! Rick, are you okay?"

"Who-who gives a shit?!" Rick ripped his bleeding hand out of Stan’s grasp and continued to fuss with Stan's arm. The arm was bleeding shallowly, while Rick’s thumb dripped constantly onto the worn rug.  
  
Stan grabbed Rick's chin and forced him to look at him. "I DO. I care about you, Rick."

Rick’s eyes darted back and forth between Stan’s. He felt the all too familiar hitch in his chest when he looked into those eyes, which he always found so hard to hide from. He looked down and away.

Stan sighed and released Rick. "And I KNOW you. I've known you for years. But…” He ran a hand through his hair. He exhaled, staring at the eyes that refused to make contact with his. “Rick, we used to go out _together_ . We used to go on all these wild adventures. We used to be partners.”  
  
Rick looked up, his eyes narrowing. "What...What a-are you saying Lee?"

Stan suddenly found he couldn't meet Rick's eyes either.

* * *

_They rounded a corner, their feet pounding the asphalt as they sprinted away from the cops. Their hearts were thundering in their chests and their pockets were stuffed with cash. Turning a second corner, they realized they had hit a dead end._

_Rick reached into his jacket, pulling out a small hand-held contraption._

_“Wh-what d’ya say we give this bad boy a test run?”_

_Stan faltered for a moment, until he heard one of the cops behind them yell, “They went this way!”_

_“What are you waiting for?!”_

_Rick smirked at Stan before pointing the contraption at the brick wall and firing. A large glob of what appeared to be green slime shot out of the gun and formed a swirling circle on the wall._

_Stan swallowed hard and looked at Rick. He searched Rick’s dark brown eyes, and, finding nothing but confidence there, he nodded. Grabbing Rick’s hand, he turned, and they jumped through the portal, together._

* * *

Stan picked a rag up off the table and took Rick's hand, wrapping the towel around it to staunch the bleeding. Rick pulled his hand away.

Stan felt the anger rise up again, his heart swelling with it. “You used to give a shit, Rick! About me, about yourself, about...about fucking _anything_. We used to look out for each other. I don’t know if you’re just fucking bored with me or what, but...Rick, I want…”

Rick quirked an eyebrow. “Oh? Wh-what do you want? I’ll m-make it up to you…”

“I don't want _this_ anymore, Rick. This…this toxic bullshit.” He looked away again. He hated feeling this _weak_ . He hated that Rick made him feel like this.

* * *

_“I just...I can’t believe you made a fucking_ **_portal gun_ ** _. I can’t believe it_ **_worked_ ** _.”_

_Rick chuckled and leaned into Stan. They sat in a heap together, their chests heaving as they tried to catch their breath._

_“Oh you bet-better believe it baby!”_

_“Reminds me of my brother…” Stan muttered under his breath._

_Rick turned his head sharply to Stan. “What?”_

_Stan sighed, “You’re both so fucking smart. I can’t keep up with you!”_

_“You-you’re smart too, Lee.”_

_Stan laughed, then raised his eyebrow incredulously when he saw how serious Rick looked. “Oh, please. Don’t patronize me.”_

_“I’m n-not, Lee. What the fuck w-would be the point in that?! You-you’re fucking smart Lee, y-you’re kind of a fucking genius. Only you could come up with a scam like_ **_that_ ** _, and only you could’ve slipped those cuffs...you’re smart in-in your own way Lee. You’re smart in a way n-no one else is. It’s your prick of a brother who’s an idiot for not seeing that.”_

_Stan’s eyes had widened at Rick’s tirade; his cheeks felt hot and his eyes unfocused._

_Rick broke his eye contact and slouched. “So just stop saying shit like that.”_

_Stan let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, and smiled softly at Rick._

_“Okay,” he whispered, leaning back into Rick._

* * *

Stan raised his eyes when he heard Rick bark with laughter.

“You-you-you think _I_ want this bullshit? I don’t know wh-what the fuck you’re talking about Lee, I-I thought we were cool. Why do you gotta be such an over-sensitive bitch about, about whatever the fuck is up your ass this time. I don’t n-need this shit.” He turned away from Stan, clutching his sides with laughter.

 _Stop it._ Rick felt like he was being torn in half. _Fucking talk to him you idiot._ He felt the laugh pouring out of him before he could pull it back inside. _Fucking tell him how you really feel for once._ The laugh began to die in his throat as he felt a familiar bile rise up in its place. _What are you going to do without him?_

“Screw this.”

Rick glanced over his shoulder and saw Stan grabbing a duffel bag and stuffing it with his clothes. He picked up another bottle.

_Do you really want to be alone again?_

* * *

_Lying on the hood of Stan’s car, looking up at the stars, they often found themselves sharing truths they would never share otherwise. A satellite passed over them._

_“Make a wish,” Stan said softly, putting his arm around Rick._

_“I-it’s just a satellite, Lee.”_

_“Even so, make a wish.”_

_Rick sighed. “I only ever used to w-wish for one thing. To get off of this g-god-forsaken planet.” He took a long pull from his flask._

_“Well...why don’t you? I mean, you can now, right?”_

_“Yeah...but…”_

_“What?”_

_“Wh-what if I get lost up there? Wh-what if s-something goes wrong?”_

_Stan looked at Rick this time and saw how Rick chewed at his lip and wouldn’t look at him._

_“Are you...scared?” he said hesitantly._

_“I-I’m not! I just…” He curled up closer to Stan, resting his head on Stan’s shoulder. He whispered, so softly Stan almost didn’t hear him, “I have something to lose now.”_

* * *

Rick growled, a hollow sound, and took a long swig from the bottle. _You know that won't fill it. It never does._

“Fuck!” Rick yelled suddenly, slamming the bottle down on the table. He spun around, glaring daggers into Stan, who stared wide-eyed at him. “W-w- _why_? Why _now_?”

Stan exhaled, lowering his shoulders from their tense stance after Rick's cry surprised him. “Rick…it's not as if this is coming out of nowhere. You _know_ that.”

Rick scoffed, “Do I? I know a lot of fucking sh-shi… _things_ Stan, I don't know why you're suddenly l-l-leaving for no fucking reason!”

“Really?!” Anger rose in Stan like a wave, his fists clenched at his sides and heat rising to his cheeks. “You're _never here_ . And when you are you're so fucking strung out you may as well not be. You're out all day doing who knows what, with whoever you want, and I'm just…” he swallowed hard around the lump in his throat. “... _here_. Waiting. Like a dog.”

Rick bit down on his own tongue, hard. _Say something._ He clenched his fist around the towel, biting down the wince of pain. **_Anything_**.

“You don't deny it then,” Stan half-whispered.

“Deny _what_?” Rick couldn't hide the sharpness in his voice.

“That you've been fucking everyone in the galaxy!”

“Oh come on, Lee, it-it's just _bodies_. Who-who-who gives a shit?”

Stan opened his mouth to yell again, but he clenched his jaw instead, returning to packing what little he owned into the duffel bag.

Rick felt as if the earth was caving beneath his feet, a pit growing and growing, swallowing him whole. He choked out, “Wh-where are you gonna go?”

Stan pulled something out of his back pocket and tossed it on the floor. Rick stooped to pick it up. “Gravity Falls?” he turned the postcard over. “ _Ford_ ? Your _brother_ ?! He treated you like _dirt,_ Lee!”

“And you're so much _better_ , Rick?”

Rick's heart fell twelve stories. _What the fuck are you doing?_

“He needs me, Rick. You don't. Clearly.” Stan zipped up his bag. “ _Well?”_

Stan gave Rick a tired, despairing look, begging for something he was sure Rick would never concede. _Just say something Rick. Please. Just say you want me to stay, and I will._

Rick's eyes could have burned holes through that threadbare rug. He could have screamed himself hoarse with all the things he wanted to say. He could have drowned in the silence that was all he was capable of producing.

The door closed in his face. The soft _click_ was deafening.

 _He's better off without me,_ Rick thought.

* * *

Epilogue

  
In the back of a diner in the middle of Roadkill County, Oregon, a green portal flashed into existence.

Rick stepped through. The apprehension and fear coursing through him stayed hidden beneath the blank stare he'd worked so hard to cultivate over the last several decades.

He was old now, older than he ever expected or wanted to get, but in some small way he was grateful that he’d made it this far. There were few reasons he was glad to still be dragging his sorry ass around the multiverse, but the fact that he had managed to make it here, in this bum-fuck town in the middle of nowhere, was a big one.

He dragged a hand through the hair he would never admit was thinning, and began walking through and out of the town, following the GPS on his phone to a shack out in the middle of who the fuck knows where.

When he finally saw the cabin emerge through the trees, he stopped. His blank stare began to crumble, anxiety gnawing at him in a way he hadn't known for years.

He started to reach for his flask, but stopped himself and groaned before leaning back against the closest redwood.

_It took a lot of mistakes to get you here. Don't fucking make this one too._

Rick rubbed at the old jagged scar across the base of his right thumb. It had never healed quite right, and when he pressed on it, sometimes he could still feel a twinge.

 _You have nothing left to gain from hiding_. He clenched his fists tight before pushing himself off the tree and towards the shack, which suddenly seemed to look like a massive hulking beast, waiting to devour him whole.

He walked up the steps, his heart threatening to burst through his thin rib cage. He raised his hand, and in one last feat of strength, he knocked.

Almost immediately he heard a deep voice bellow from inside the house, “We're closed!”

He felt like there was a fist wrapped around his throat, but he somehow managed to choke out, “Stan...Lee, it's…it's Rick.”  
  
The longest silence followed. It stretched and stretched, swallowing Rick up, until he wasn't even sure that he'd been heard at all. He thought about knocking again, and even raised his hand, but instead he sighed deeply and started to turn around. Until he heard the soft _click_ of a lock releasing.  
  
Against all odds, against all reason, Stan opened the door.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was made with art by frickstanchez, which you can view here: http://frickstanchez.tumblr.com/post/152267900187/
> 
> Also featuring art by my beta, which you can view here: http://lieutenantruby.tumblr.com/post/152171919906/
> 
> I also created a fanmix to go with this story, which you can listen to here: http://8tracks.com/drenchedinsunset/fading
> 
> Thank you so much to my beta LieutenantRuby, who helped convince me to make this happen, when I wasn't sure I could do it.


End file.
